


I Think You're My Best Friend

by Targa365



Category: Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Hush Sound, Panic! at the Disco, The Academy Is...
Genre: Abuse, Blindness, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 13:14:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21271619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Targa365/pseuds/Targa365
Summary: Ryan Ross and Spencer Smith couldn't more different if they tried.Ryan has a rough home environment, whilst Spencer's is full of love.Ryan is passionate about words and writing whilst Spencer would listen and take it in.Ryan is more outgoing, whilst Spencer is more reserved.Ryan can see the world. Spencer can't.(may contain triggers, updates aren't frequent but I'll so my best, tags may be added, plot may change. I'm already pretty proud at how detailed this is, but my writing also depends on my mood. Enjoy?)





	I Think You're My Best Friend

Living in a house where the one of the windows is cracked and the paint is peeling doesn't allow for sixteen year old Ryan Ross to have the best reputation. Not to mention the front gate doesn't close anymore, the pavement leading up to the front door has been taken over by grass and moss, a few tiles that once sat on the roof now lay abandoned on the rough ground, the letterbox on the front door is missing, concluding in a terrible draft inside of the house, the grass is overgrown, bricks discoloured, the wired fence is falling, faded toys from years and years ago still lay half-buried in the ground and the back garden doesn't look much better. The moldy fence, that runs only runs along the back, shielding the house from an ally way, has more holes in it than a sponge, the shed is just a pile of wood, two trees lean dangerously close to the ground, an old swing set remains as a metal frame, the back door is bordered up and a large circle of ash rests perfectly in the middle of the mess.

The inside is probably even worse. Through the front door is uneven an uneven staircase, decorated with stained carpet. The rest of the floor upstairs is the same, however, the downstairs flooring is slightly different. The old wooden floor was ripped up, leaving bumpy concrete through most of the rooms, but the kitchen still holds its cracked tiles. The living room wallpaper only remains in scraps, and the sofas are cold, brown leather with tea stains on the arms. There is no television. It broke. The dining room has a large, rectangular table, but that too is stained and never used. Only two chairs remain. The kitchen has many broken or dirty dishes laying idly on the counter tops. The ceiling is molded slightly due to water from the bathroom above. The blinds no longer close. Upstairs is a mess. Laundry piles dot the landing area and the the doors to both bedrooms don't shut all the way. There is also no banister by the stairs. The bathroom has no mirror and smells damp. The toilet takes about three goes to flush, and the shower lets out pitiful groans before actually letting a light flow of water break through. The sink is blocked, so the bath taps are used the most. All of the rooms have a similar colour theme, green, cream or grey. 

Ryan's bedroom is green. Not the vibrant, grass green he would like, but more of a faded t-shirt type of green. His bed squeaks when he turns in the night, and so do the floorboards when he walks across the room. His bedroom isn't small by any means, and he has all that he needs; wardrobe, bed, locker, lamp, drawers , plug sockets, curtains, desk, chair, rug (which smells pretty bad but he really likes it) and a shelf. In fact, he thinks he's quite lucky all things considered. The furniture may not match, but it's his little safe haven. On the desk is his school work, along side a mass pile of books, and next to his wardrobe is his pride and joy; a battered old guitar.

Ryan came across the guitar two years previously, at a car boot sale. The old owner had a bunch of tattered instruments he wanted to get rid of, and the guitar had lowered in price throughout the day. When Ryan came across it, the poor thing was missing half its strings, and was chipped around the body pretty badly. It looked as though it was missing varnish in some areas, creating dotted marks along the back. People were too lazy to get the basic bits repaired. Ryan hovered around the man's silver Volkswagen Touran throughout the day, until the price was low enough, and he was just about to pack away. It cost him only £20. He replaced all of the guitar strings for £8. The guitar may only be a basic 'starter' guitar kids have at schools, along with the cheap fabric case, but Ryan loves it. And it was cheap. Learning guitar took him a while, but Greta is an excellent teacher. 

Outside of his bedroom window, Ryan can see rows upon rows of perfect houses, which are all better versions of his own. His favourite house to look at is the Smith household. It isn't far from his own house, but far away enough that he can just see the back garden, and perfectly clean conservatory. From where Ryan can see, the house is at a slight angle, highlighting the pale bricks and shiny windows with white frames. The residents of the Smith household are just as amazing. Jeffery Smith is a patient but busy man, who leaves the house at silly o'clock in the morning (or in other words, ridiculously early), but by the time he finish work, it's the afternoon. Ginger Smith is a sweet and tidy lady with the kindest heart. She works at the supermarket in town. They have two daughters, Crystal and Jackie, who are twins. They are only eight but sometimes act eighteen. The last member of the Smith household is Spencer. He is a careful character with confidence he wears like a mask. But Ryan can see through that mask. He is also sweet, honest, witty and intelligent. 

Spencer Smith has been Ryan's friend since they were very little. They met at a clothing shop, and a little six year old Spencer was lost. Ryan had been wondering around the isles whilst his father tried on multiple jackets. He came across a crying boy with milky eyes and puffy cheeks. He was stood alone and shivering slightly.

"Are you okay?" Ryan asked the small boy. He walked closer and lightly touched the smaller boys shoulder, but his hand drew away quickly as though it was shocked, when the boy flinched.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I promise." The boy nodded at Ryan's word, but shook his head again. He was frightened.

"Where's you're dad?" Ryan asked. Looking back at that moment, Ryan never realised how much he used his dad as a reference. Most kids, teachers and adults as a general would ask for the mother first...but Ryan never had one, so he never really mentioned his mother or a mother at all.

"Work," the boy mumbled, "can't find mum." Ryan could see tears running down his cheeks and off his chin.

"Have you looked for her everywhere." Ryan thought that was a good place to start. Why hadn't the boy looked anywhere? He wasn't much help to himself if he was just standing there.

"Can't see." What the hell did that mean?

"Is it because of your tears? Just wipe your eyes on your sleeve, I'm sure your mum won't mind."

The boy shook his head fiercely. "No! I can't see anything. My mum says I'm blind."

Oh.

"What's your name? I can ask the people who work here to find her."

"Spencer." 

"I'm going to take your hand, and go to the tills, okay?" Spencer nodded and was led by Ryan through the isles and to one of the tills. It was pure luck that Ginger Smith was at the same till they went to, and was hurriedly talking to a man about a boy who was this tall, with light brown hair, wearing a blue rain jacket and...her delight when she turned to see her son with a scrawny looking boy in tow. 

Since then Ryan and Spencer have been close. Almost like brothers. Spencer goes to a different school, but his parents don't mind Ryan coming over afterwards. They, of course, had to adapt at first. Ryan had never met anyone blind before Spencer. In fact, he didn't know it was a real thing! They both learnt a lot. Like how Ryan shouldn't baby Spencer because he can actually do things for himself, and how Spencer shouldn't be scared to ask for help.

They have each other. 

It's them against the world.

Withdrawing from the memory, Ryan picks up his battered guitar, and lightly strums a tune only he knows, humming to himself; "if all our life is but a dream..."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and such are greatly appreciated 😊.


End file.
